


Psycho Surgery

by cuntoid



Category: Pocket Mortys, Rick and Morty
Genre: Alien Anesthetic, Amputation, Blood, Daddy Kink, Drug Use, F/M, Forced Orgasms, Gangbang, Gore, Multi, Smut, Surgery, Surgery Fetish, Surgical Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-10 00:01:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11115660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuntoid/pseuds/cuntoid
Summary: Your (Cicada's) Rick needs to get some business done and leaves you in the care of Surgeon Rick and Lab Rick. They want inside. Commander in Chief Rick makes an appearance.





	Psycho Surgery

**Author's Note:**

> Commission for @cicada414 on tumblr. Lots of blood and surgery! I'm awful at titles! (Interest in commissions can be discussed through DM!)

"Cicada. _Cicada!_ Christ. Pay attention."

The flurry of activity around you is hardly conducive to your focusing on any one thing; Ricks and Mortys mingle and go off to their respective destinations, oblivious to your bright-eyed staring. A few of the passing Ricks acknowledge you with winks or knowing grins when you aren't met with total disregard.

"I _am_ paying attention," you mutter. Morty slips his hand into yours just for a moment to tickle your palm suggestively, and you turn in time to see his smirk. You elbow him and he coughs to mask his laugh. "Fuck off, Morty."

Rick sighs as he leads the both of you into the medical building, nodding at the guard and flashing his identification. "Y-You know what, how about the _both_ of you fuck off, huh? I need to get some work done. Can't be fucking ba-babysitting all day."

" _Rick!_ You said I could tag along, what the hell?" 

The other Ricks in the room - the Surgeon and his attendant for the day, Lab Rick - glance over with barely concealed grins, amused at your whining. Your Rick pinches the bridge of his nose and huffs, pointing at the door. "Morty, get the fuck out. Go play with the other Mortys or something."

Morty rolls his eyes. "I-I'm not missing out on another shift because of you, Rick! I need to get _paid._ "

"What do you need money for, you dumb little shit? What do you pay for except fuckin _porn?_ Who fuckin pays for porn, Morty? It's - it's free all over the goddamn internet!"

The Surgeon clucks his tongue as he directs Lab Rick to finish stitching a body up. "Rookie move." 

Morty erupts into a flurry of excuses in his own defense, a flush creeping up his neck and pooling in his cheeks. He eyes you miserably and you lift a shoulder in a small shrug, all that you can offer him in the face of Ricks being Ricks. He sees himself out and screams behind him that he'd better get paid or else he's taking it to the Council. 

" _Jesus_. Tightly wound. Maybe he uh, _needs_ that subscription, huh?" Lab Rick snaps his gloves with satisfaction, watching beads of blood flick off and shower the grimy corpse he's been stitching. 

The trio laughs in an uncanny, scratchy harmony, and the Surgeon sighs before flapping his hand at Rick. "Just - just give the sad little shit pay for the day. Tell the Commander about it. Whatever."

Rick shrugs and tugs your arm back toward the door, grabbing a thick sheaf of documents on the way. "Come on, babe, let's - you know, get this bullshit over with."

"No, no, wait - leave her here." 

Rick turns to eye Surgeon and Lab Rick curiously, and you can practically hear his brain working overtime to figure out _why_. You share a look with Lab Rick and he licks his lips. 

Rick huffs impatiently and pushes you forward before turning on his heel. "You know w-what, I don't care. Quicker this way, anyway. Go nuts."

The air of the room changes upon his hasty exit. The two Ricks eye you with matching grins, their teeth sharkish and gleaming in the stark fluorescent light. They move in tandem, circling the table to approach you. Lab Rick strokes the cadaver's leg on his way, tracing a gloved, gory finger down its inner thigh and over the curve of calf.

"So..." The Surgeon rubs his hands and looks you up and down. 

That's all it takes for you - how many chances did you ever get alone with the Surgeon? Just the sound of his uniform creaking makes you wet, and you toy with the edges of your thigh-highs as blood rushes to your face. Lab Rick makes an obnoxious, satisfied sound in his throat at the sight. 

"You wanna play with me?" 

Your voice doesn't sound teasing or confident like you'd hoped - you sound too shy. Afraid, almost, the softness in your tone showing your hand. You're damn near desperate for it. The Surgeon takes a deep breath to center himself and you realize that maybe you _should_ be a little afraid. 

Without removing his eyes from your body, Surgeon addresses Lab Rick with a snap of his fingers. "Go - go put that body back in the freezer."

He works with haste, wheeling the corpse away while the Surgeon advances on you until he's within touching distance, close enough to push up on your toes and kiss him. He smirks and bends down to meet your eye level. 

" _Strip._ "

By the time Lab Rick returns with a fresh table, your clothes are on the floor and you shiver under their lewd twin gaze, elbowing each other in the ribs as if conspiring. The Surgeon nods, clearly pleased, and slides a finger through the ring of your collar. A rough tug has you scrambling to keep up with his long-legged gait, leading you to the table and lifting you like a doll to arrange you as he sees fit. You give a squeal as the cold surface meets your naked body and Lab Rick restrains your legs. 

"Permission to strap her down?"

The Surgeon shakes his head and grabs you by the jaw. He wrenches you to the side and leans down once again, searching your eyes in his pause. 

"Not yet. She'll be a good girl. Isn't - isn't that right? You gunna keep still?"

You nod breathlessly and watch the Surgeon's pupils blow out at your immediate obedience. Lab Rick's hands hover over your prone form and the Surgeon nods, discussing the importance of a physical examination. They finally descend upon on you and four hands roam your body, squeezing, caressing, one pushing eagerly between your thighs while another parts your lips to slide between your teeth.

You moan openly around the digits and flick your tongue against the rubbery glove, gripping the edges of the table and trying to keep still for the good doctors. 

Lab Rick curls his fingers into your swollen cunt to mirror the Surgeon's fingers in your throat, and makes it his mission to find the spots that arch your spine. Both of them overwhelm you with their razor-sharp focus, drinking in every detail about your body and what it can do, making mental notes to use it against you later. 

"You want Daddy to take you apart, b-baby? Ask." The Surgeon finishes testing your gag reflex and splays his long, wet fingers over your belly, as if he can sink right into your guts and pull out the prettiest organs with nothing but his naked will. You understand with grave certainty that he likely can.

You squirm and fumble for an answer, distracted by all the stimulation already. Lab Rick plays with you with no real intentions of getting you off; not yet, anyhow. The possibility of _not_ cumming is too much to bear and you cling to the blind hope that they will show you this small mercy.

"I'm not allowed to call you that," you whimper. It's true that Rick forbids it, but you know full well that any semblance of rules and consequences has flown out the window. You're on the verge of cumming at the mere thought of being dismembered - there's no room for decency. Your protest only serves as a monument to how fucking needy you are for their attention. 

The Surgeon shakes his head, offering you your only shot at trying again. You lick your dry lips and close your eyes against their probing.

"Daddy... please."

"Please what?"

"Cut me open, please, just... do whatever you want with me."

You open your eyes as their hands lift away, protesting in soft whines that go neglected. Lab Rick takes your hand and presses it to the stiff bulge in his pants, obvious even through his transparent smock. The Surgeon returns with a large needle and sticks you without warning, making Lab Rick choke out a moan as you squeeze your fingers in response to the pain. He looks blissful for a moment, reveling in the discomfort of your grip and shuddering. You can feel his cock jump before you release him. 

"Jesus, I could never get sick of that, I love it when they... when they startle. _Fuck_." 

"This shit will make you feel _real good_ , baby, o-okay?"

The Surgeon withdraws the needle with care, looking down at you with unexpected softness as he strokes your cheek. Whatever is in your blood has already started to take effect as the fine hairs along your body stand on end. It chills through your veins without the slightest discomfort, leaving you numb and mind-blowingly sensitive all at once.

Lab Rick watches a clock on the wall for several minutes as the Surgeon runs his hands over the expanse of smooth, electrified flesh, yielding to his touch and pushing up in encouragement, seeking stimulation. He looks amused with you, a fire burning in your cheeks and cunt while the rest of you is blissfully cold.

"What is this?" The act of speaking and moving your tongue makes you moan. You allow them to restrain your limbs and revel in the cool air against your dripping pussy, your thighs, as they spread your legs wide. "Everything feels good."

"Is she - is she doped up enough, you think?" Lab Rick looks impatiently at the Surgeon and his superior nods. 

"Go ahead and test her."

Lab Rick sidles up to your body, offers you a hungry smile, and plunges a scalpel into your chest. It vibrates in place, wedged into your sternum, and blood gushes out from the gash. 

You're swept away by the rush of pleasure - it's debilitating, curling your toes and tingling up through every inch of skin, muscle, and bone. He yanks the weapon out and swallows hard, shoving a fingertip into the open wound and laughing at your moans. 

"Yeah, I'd - I'd say she's dying for it. What do we do to her?"

"Take her legs off," The Surgeon growls. 

They each claim a shaking thigh, taking their sweet time to "prepare" you - they kiss, lick, and bite their way along, teasing your clit when they reach the center. A glance down your body treats you to the sight of two Ricks taking turns tasting you, and you rush toward the edge. 

They pull away just in time to soothe you back down and gather an assortment of tools, saws and blades and pliers. 

"Figured you'd have something a little more high-tech," you laugh nervously. Your pulse quickens and fills you with a new rush of adrenaline, or maybe just more of the drug. The Surgeon looks affectionately at a well-used bone saw before lifting it, as if testing the weight. 

"Y-you can't beat the classics, especially not for _play_. Feelin' ready, baby girl?"

" _Yes, Daddy._ " You sound as dreamy as you feel, weightless, made of light and pops of static. You no longer look down at the men gripping your thighs. You watch colors chase each other on the backs of your eyelids and explode into glittering shards as both legs are sliced into at once. 

You're immediately glad for the restraints - though you want to be good and still for them, the urge to writhe is irresistible. You have to move. There's too much sensation, a flood of searing heat exploding up out of you, forcing you to realize how hot blood is straight from the source, how _thick._ The feeling is unlike anything else you've experienced, and you realize in your daze that you're _drooling_ , saliva dripping off your cheek to the table beneath you to mingle with your blood and sweat. 

There is nowhere you'd rather be than underneath their noisy saws and scalpels, parting your muscles and tendons as if through butter, being inside of you in ways no one might ever be again. Your fingers scrabble for purchase on the smooth tabletop as your eyes tear up. You blink them open and watch the good doctors through a prism-filled blur, knowing beyond a doubt that you will want this again.

Gathering enough coherence to speak words is especially difficult. Their violent handling reduces you to a slippery, sobbing mess, despite the fact that neither of them has touched your clit as they work.

The surgeon smears his gloved, gore-stained hands over what precious inches of thigh you have left, running his fingertips over the raw, red edges and making small noises of appreciation. He crawls onto the table and grabs you by the hips, lifting your lower half into his lap. He pulls his surgical gown up to free his cock, a little thicker than you expected, and grinds it against your clit until you're wailing. He's in his element. He looks high off your reactions alone. He gives you no preparation before he bucks forward and sinks his heavy cock inside until his balls press against your ass.

The stretch is delicious. He starts slow and deep, pushing his fingers into the bleeding ruins of your legs while he fucks into you. You can feel it as he mangles the tissue, sliding over the cleanly shaven bone and tickling the marrow. 

"Fuck, baby, you're _tight._ Why - why haven't we done this before? I bet you've been waiting for a man like me, someone who can do the disgusting things you need done. _Say yes, Daddy."_

Your whine edges into a shriek as he pounds into you, short-circuiting your fraying nerves and putting you in your place as a result of your insolent silence.

" _Did you not fuh-fucking hear me?_ Say it _now_ , disobedient little - little fucktoy."

His low, scratchy voice makes you want to cum. It slices through your drug-fueled fog and hits home, his deadly tone, urging you to comply or face the consequences.

"Yes, Daddy! I'm - I'm _sorry_ , Daddy," you sob. He digs his fingers into your hips hard enough to leave bruises and keeps a brutal pace. Though pain is absent, pressure fills you and coils tight, around his thick, unforgiving cock, forcing you open again and again. He impales your body on himself thrust for thrust. 

Lab Rick stands to the side, rubbing himself through his pants as he watches. He's happy to be a voyeur, soaking a wet patch through the fabric before he finally pulls his flushed cock through the fly and massages the head.

"That's my good girl, take my cock, you filthy little blood slut, getting off on - on Daddy cutting you up. _Fuck!_ God, baby, you want my cum?"

"I... I _highly_ doubt she does."

The Surgeon's hips stop mid-stroke and you follow his lead, looking at the source of discontent. The Commander-In-Chief stands, regal in his uniform and not a bit amused, with your Rick in tow. He looks equally unimpressed but for his eyes, which snap like fire at your compromising position. 

"Ohh, fuck, can I - listen - I'm really almost finished, here -"

"Did you cum in my girl, jackass?" Your Rick yells. He points a threatening finger at the medical Ricks, teeth bared. "Did you? Either of you? Did _she_ cum? How - how fucking long did you think I'd be gone?"

The Commander lifts a brow and looks expectantly at the Surgeon, still buried to the hilt and twitching inside of you. 

"Answer him," he says. He glares at Lab Rick while he clumsily puts his cock away. "Did you cum in his girl or what?"

They shake their heads in the negative and your Rick starts screaming at them about touching his property, to keep their gross dicks out of his personal belongings. If you were not _this close_ to cumming, you'd be laughing. 

The Commander shuts your Rick up with a gesture and a scoff before turning to the Surgeon. "Get the fuck out of her." He loosens his belt and strolls over, shoulder-checking the Surgeon to take his place.

"W-wait-" Your Rick looks incensed. The Commander doesn't spare him a glance as he mounts he table, yanks your body up and fills you, moving with a thoughtfulness that neither the Surgeon nor Lab Rick possessed. He rolls his hips and angles them, angles _you_ , using his mouth to tease the undersides of your breasts and lick the blood off your skin. He thrusts over and over against your g-spot, finally reaching down between your bodies to offer you the stimulation you've needed this entire time. 

"You watching, Rick?" he asks your keeper. "You - you fuckin' _cuck_. I bet you're as hard as these other two bastards right now, bet you'll get this pretty little thing to jerk you off after I leave. But I'm going to fill her up with my cum first, do you - you know why?"

His question goes unanswered and his laughter breaks off into a series of moans that catapult you back to the edge. 

"That's it, baby. You gunna cum for me?"

"Yeah - yes, Daddy."

The Commander picks up his pace, rushing you to climax as he circles your slick little clit. He laughs breathlessly and smirks.

"I-I'm not your Daddy. You call me _Sir_. Understand?"

"Yes Da- yes, Sir!"

"Shit - you get tighter when you say that. Good girl. You got a good one, here, C-414. Watch me ruin her for you."

The line separating you from release disappears in a few eager strokes of his fingers, and you feel the muscles in your belly and what's left of your thighs tense up as it hits. A surprising gush of blood drips down your legs as you cum around the Commander, a deep, primal sound vibrating from his chest as he finds his own release. Hypersensitive as you are, you can feel every throb as he empties his balls into you, leaning down to bite at your throat as he rides it out. Leaving his mark, a reminder. A _'call me'_. 

He slides out of your body, adjusts his custom, bloodied uniform, and shifts back into business mode. On his way out, he snaps his fingers at his crew. 

"Fuckin' clean this shit up, put her back together for - for Christ's sake. If I catch you pulling this shit again - _I'm looking at you, Lab Rick_ \- I'm gunna fucking feed your sorry asses to the feral Mortys. Get back to work!"

There's a long pause after he takes his leave, stretching unbroken until Morty wanders back into the room and takes one look at the scene before him, face blank.

He stares directly at the Surgeon and sighs. "Fuck you." He looks at each of them, the face of a Morty who is just done with the goddamn day. "Fuck all - _all_ of you. I'm going home."

Morty slams the door on his way out and this time it's the Surgeon who breaks the silence.

"You know what? Give him double pay for the day."


End file.
